"These are essences from the Dzavak Lakes district, far to the west of here." Baiuntu spoke pridefully. "You will not find the like anywhere in Cuipernam. I would champion them in a contest of fine perfumes against any scents acquired anywhere in the Republic." He waved a thick-fingered hand encouragingly. "Go on, go on! Try them. The paluruvu-that's the violet-hued liquid in the bottle at the end of the display-is particularly flamboyant. A couple of drops of the pure essence blended with clear water will make a large flagon of expensive perfume." He smiled broadly.
"The Alwari may be prairie-dwelling nomads, but they are not uncivilized. Like the Qulun, they, too, enjoy the finer things. These essences are among our best sellers. After days spent traveling the open plains in the company of a great many reeking herd and draft animals, a well-off Alwari couple is grateful for the opportunity to moderate the natural bouquet within their home."
Tentatively, Luminara tried a whiff of several of the different extracts. All were outstanding, but true to Baiuntu's word, the paluruvu was exceptional.
"Wonderful," she declared as she passed the tray to Obi-Wan. His sampling was more perfunctory than hers, but he, too,
had to admit that the assortment was the equal of anything he had encountered on Coruscant or any other equally sophisticated world of the Republic.
By the time Barriss and Anakin took their turn, the room was awash in a spectacular swirl of scents. These cloaked the atmosphere entirely, drowning out any hint of corralled animals or bustling clanfolk. As Luminara looked on, Baiuntu yawned hugely. Come to think of it, she was feeling quite weary herself. It had been a long day. Straightening, she prepared to excuse herself and her companions. That was the first inkling she had that something was wrong.
She couldn't straighten.
In fact, she could not even sit up. Her taut, lean muscles seemed to have turned to mush, to have buckled into the cush ions and pillows that supported them. Her head swam, and she felt like she was melting into the floor. Out of rapidly blurring eyes she saw Obi-Wan rise and attempt to draw his lightsaber. His fingers clutched futilely in its vicinity. Even if he had succeeded in drawing and activating the weapon, there was no one to fight. Their host was already wheezing away sonorously, his hands clasped across his most un-Ansionian belly. The eyecatching essence presenter was lying nearby, her lithe form sound asleep at his feet.
"Something's-Barriss!" Attempting to shout, Luminara produced only a loud whisper. Her Padawan did not hear her. Barriss lay sprawled on her own cushioning divan, head back, mouth open, and limbs akimbo. Not far away, Anakin Skywalker lay facedown a body-length or two from the entrance to the visitors' house. A house, Luminara saw through a thickening haze, whose doors had been firmly and surreptitiously shut tight. To keep them in, she wondered? Or to seal in the striking, swirling melange of fragrances? It amounted, she realized, to the same thing.
Paluruvu not only excited the sense of smell, she thought woozily. It also must contain the powerful sedative that was rendering her and her companions senseless. But if the result was intentional, why would Baiuntu subject himself and the female who had offered it up to the same sleep- inducing effects? Struggling to crawl toward the door, she tried to draw her own weapon. The effort was to no avail. Her brain no longer seemed capable of establishing contact with her fingers.
Nearby, Obi-Wan dropped to his knees and looked over at her. His expression was blank, drugged. As she stared, his eyes closed and he fell over onto his side. On the far side of the room, Kyakhta and Bulgan snorted loudly in the familiar wheezing, hissing Ansionian manner. Exerting a tremendous effort, Anakin Skywalker rose to his feet and rushed at the shuttered entrance. Through the increasingly dense haze that was clogging her thoughts, she marveled at the attempt. The youth must have an enormous reservoir of willpower, she decided.
Unfortunately, all of it was expended in reaching the door. By the time he struck it, Anakin's legs were barely able to hold him erect. The doors shuddered, but held firm. Retreating, he reached for his lightsaber, turned a slow, confused circle, and sat down. His eyes closed and he fell over onto his side. She was now the only one in the room who was still conscious.
Of course Baiuntu would subject himself and the serving fe male to the effects of the immobilizing perfume, she found herself thinking. How better to put someone you wanted to poison at ease than by partaking of that same poison yourself? If nothing else, it suggested that the narcotizing procedure was not fatal. Baiuntu might be the type to join his intended victims in sleep, but not in death.
She saw it all clearly now. They had been lured in and ren dered helpless-but for what purpose, to what end? Soon other Qulun would doubtless open up the room, wait for the tranquil-izing mist drifting within to dissipate, and then assist their chief and the unconscious female. As for the clan's erstwhile "guests," what was to be done with them remained a matter of some speculation. Speculation she could not track to a logical conclusion, because she was tired, so tired, and at the moment nothing could possibly feel any better, nothing could conceivably matter more, than a good night's sleep.
A part of her brain screamed at her to keep awake, to stay alert. Fighting the perfume's effects, she managed to lift her head off the cushions. It was a last, defiant gesture. Even Jedi training could be overcome. Perhaps not by force of arms. But a lightsaber was useless against the delectable, all-pervasive, irresistible fragrance of essence of paluruvu. .
Chapter 13
"There's the grotty little dyzat! Get him!"
Tooqui didn't know why the two Qulun were chasing him, but he didn't hang around to find out. Both clan members were brandishing strange, foreign weapons, and even though he didn't know what they were or what they could do, he decided right away that it would be better not to wait around to see.
Something bad must have happened. If Master Barriss was all right, she wouldn't stand for him being chased like this, by screaming, wild-eyed, angry Qulun. The last time he had seen her, she and her endlessly interesting friends were relaxing in the company of the Qulun chief. Everyone seemed to be getting along wonderfully well well. What had happened to change that?
True, the traders were Qulun, not Alwari. But they were still people of the plains, not the hills. Perhaps they were after all no more trustworthy than a bunch of roving, slobbering Alwari, the dorgum-herding snigvolds.
If that was the case, then Master Barriss too might for sure be in danger. She and her teachers were very powerful, but they were not gods. They were not as strong as Miywondl, the wind, or Kapchenaga, the thunder. They were only people. Bigger than the Gwurran, maybe a little smarter, but just people. They could be broken, and deaded. The Qulun were people, too. That meant they also knew of different ways of killing.
But if there had been killing, surely he would have heard something. From what he had seen, Master Barriss and her com panions were not the kind to go down without a fight. Had they been tricked somehow? Many were the tales told in the tribal canyons on dark nights of the tricks shrewd trader folk sometimes played on unsuspecting visitors.